


Love the One You Hold

by shions_heart



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (minus the sex), Body Worship, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Love Confessions, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Third Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 16:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5792296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shions_heart/pseuds/shions_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After nearly a year of dating, Yahaba finally manages to say those three little words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love the One You Hold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angel_puddingu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_puddingu/gifts).



> Happy birthday, An-kun! I hope you enjoy your KyouHabas. <3

Despite being Kentarou’s boyfriend and knowing well the way his body looks and feels and moves, Yahaba can’t help but be fascinated every time he sees the way Kentarou plays volleyball. He never holds back, he always gives his all, and Yahaba loves that tiny self-satisfied smirk that flickers across Kentarou’s usual scowl whenever he hits a particularly good spike. His muscles flex and bunch, as he crouches and runs and jumps. He can never seem to tuck his shirt in correctly, so there’s always a distracting sliver of skin visible whenever he swings his arm back to spike.

Yahaba does his best to ignore it, but sometimes it’s difficult.

Sometimes he just wants to sit back and _look_ at Kentarou. The wrinkle of his forehead as he concentrates, the way his jaw twitches when he clenches his teeth, the way his hands run over his hips in that quick, agitated way that lets Yahaba know he’s ready for a toss.

Yahaba tries not to think about Kentarou’s hips.

“You played well today,” Yahaba says in the locker room after practice, lingering back as the others file out.

Kentarou grunts softly, but Yahaba notices the pleased flush that colors the tips of his ears. He shrugs out of his shirt, and Yahaba can’t help but stare at his broad shoulders, the slope of his back, slick with a faint sheen of sweat. His fingers twitch, aching to touch, but Kentarou is stepping out of his shorts now, and Yahaba’s eyes fall to the thick muscles of his thighs, the solid line of his calves.

He swallows hard, looking away quickly as Kentarou glances at him.

“What’re you staring at?” he asks with an embarrassed growl.

Yahaba gives him a serene smile. “Nothing,” he says lightly.

Kentarou snorts, rolling his eyes as he picks up his towel and slams his locker door shut. “I’m taking a shower.”

Yahaba simply hums in response, wondering if Kentarou would mind him joining. He doesn’t think he has the courage to attempt anything sexual on school property, but the thought of simply watching Kentarou makes his skin tingle with anticipation of maybe touching that broad back, feel those muscles quiver beneath his fingernails.

Sighing, he turns and presses his forehead against his locker, allowing the metal to cool his flushed face.

What would Oikawa do?

Yahaba grimaces. He knows exactly what Oikawa would do.

Squaring his shoulders, Yahaba pulls off his sweaty uniform, tossing it into his gym bag to wash later. Grabbing a towel and some soap, he steps toward the showers, sliding open the door carefully. The room is full of steam, but he can see Kentarou’s outline as he rubs his soap bar over his arms. Setting his towel down, Yahaba steps over carefully, mindful of the wet floor.

“Took you long enough,” Kentarou grumbles.

Yahaba laughs weakly. “Go easy on me. I’m still new to this.”

“New to what?” Kentarou asks, turning back to lathering his arms with suds.

_To loving you_.

He doesn’t say it. The words get stuck in his throat. Instead, Yahaba reaches out to touch Kentarou’s shoulder, slowly running his fingertips down the curve of his shoulder blade to his spine. He can feel the shiver that runs through Kentarou, and he can’t help but smile, pleased that his touch has this affect on him.

“What are you doing?” he asks gruffly, glancing over his shoulder at Yahaba.

“Just admiring the view,” he quips in return, before quickly ducking over to the shower head beside Kentarou, turning it on and busying himself with getting clean, attempting to scrub his mind clear of impure thoughts. It doesn’t completely rid himself of the half-hard boner, but it allows him to make it through the shower without anything embarrassing happening.

He’s quick to pull his towel around his waist, but before he can leave, Kentarou touches his arm.

“Will you wait for me?” he asks, his voice quiet, almost as though he’s afraid Yahaba will say no.

Yahaba blinks, nodding rapidly. “Of course,” he says, leaning forward to press a light kiss against Kentarou’s cheek. “I’ll be right outside.”

Kentarou nods, lowering his hand, his face flushed.

Yahaba lingers outside the locker room, fiddling with a new app on his phone. It’s some kitty collecting game Watari showed him and as much as Yahaba tried to resist, he’s a sucker for adorable kittens. He looks up as Kentarou exits, hair still dripping and lying flat against his head. Yahaba can’t help but grin, reaching out to ruffle the strands as much as he can.

“You forgot to dry your head. Are you looking to catch a cold?”

Kentarou frowns, shaking his head toward Yahaba like a dog ridding its fur of water, sending droplets flying toward Yahaba’s face. He yelps and leaps away with a laugh.

“Don’t be such an animal,” he says, but then he takes Kentarou’s hand and pulls him outside. Swinging their hands gently as they walk along, he thinks to what his plans are for the rest of the day.

“Do you want to come over and study? Afterwards we could—” He stops as Kentarou’s phone interrupts him from his boyfriend’s pocket, a familiar ringtone that stops them both in their tracks. Kentarou’s face pales, and Yahaba bites his lip, a sense of dread filling him.

“Sorry,” Kentarou mutters, pulling his hand out of Yahaba’s to answer it. He speaks gruffly, mostly just saying “yeah” and “no.” Yahaba reaches out to touch his arm, but Kentarou turns away from him, shoulders hunched.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll do it when I get home. . . . I said I was sorry. No, sir, I’m not—” He sighs. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry. Okay. Bye.” He hangs up, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

He doesn’t turn back to face Yahaba, so Yahaba takes the initiative to walk around Kentarou, ducking to peer up into his face. “Hey,” he says softly, reaching up to place his palm on Kentarou’s cheek, lifting his head. “You can stay with me tonight, if you want.”

Kentarou sighs, shaking his head slightly. “He’ll just get angrier if I do.”

Yahaba’s teeth worry at his lip, as he pushes his fingers slowly through the damp strands of Kentarou’s hair in what he hopes is a soothing gesture. He wishes he could do more to help, but he’s still in high school. He doesn’t have any authority over Kentarou’s life, despite wanting more than anything to get Kentarou away from the unrest in his home.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says, because he can’t think of what else _to_ say. It sounds lame, and he wishes he were Oikawa. He wishes he had the ability to wax words poetic, to be encouraging enough to lift Kentarou’s spirits. To speak with such confidence that anyone would believe him, even someone as skeptical as Kentarou.

But Kentarou leans into his touch, turning his head to kiss at Yahaba’s wrist. “Can we still go to your place?” he asks, his dark eyes watching Yahaba closely.

Yahaba’s chest aches, as his heart skips a beat. He nods quickly. “Of course.”

Taking Kentarou’s hand again, he begins walking once more; doing his best to think of ways he can cheer Kentarou up once they reach his house. He calls a greeting as he enters, just in case his parents or sister is home, kicking off his shoes. Kentarou slides his own off quietly, frowning at the floor. Yahaba receives no response, so he assumes everyone is still out and they’re alone.

He takes Kentarou’s hand once more, pulling him gently toward the stairs that lead to his room. When they arrive, though, instead of immediately getting out his homework, he turns and places his hands on either side of Kentarou’s face, drawing him close for a deep kiss. Kentarou stiffens at first, not having expected it, but it only takes a moment before he’s wrapping his thick arms around Yahaba’s waist, almost lifting him off the floor as he draws him closer to kiss him back.

Yahaba can’t help but smile into the kiss, running his fingers through Kentarou’s hair, sliding them down to scratch lightly at the back of his neck, before settling on his shoulders. Gently, Kentarou sets him down, huffing a soft sigh through his nose before pulling away.

“You don’t have to do that to cheer me up,” Kentarou mutters softly, resting his forehead against Yahaba’s. “Just being next to you makes me feel better.”

Yahaba grins, squeezing Kentarou’s shoulders firmly. “You’re so cheesy,” he teases gently. Before Kentarou can grow self-conscious and pull away, however, Yahaba quickly kisses the side of his mouth. “But I feel the same.”

Stepping back, he takes both Kentarou’s hands, leading him to the bed. He pushes Kentarou down onto it, moving to lie beside him. Kentarou is watching him with a perplexed frown. Smiling, Yahaba reaches up to smooth his thumb across the wrinkles in Kentarou’s forehead.

“Did you know that you’re beautiful?” he asks quietly, guessing it’s the day for cheesiness. Oikawa never shirked from being cheesy as hell, and he managed to woo practically every girl in school. Surely that also worked on hardheaded, gruff boyfriends. It managed to work on Iwaizumi, at least, and Yahaba finds him scarier than Kentarou has ever been.

Kentarou snorts at his words, rolling his eyes. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m being serious,” Yahaba says, sitting up on one elbow to look down at Kentarou. He looks over his boyfriend's features, the line of his nose, the soft plush of his lips, the dark lashes that frame his eyes so thickly it appears as though he wears eyeliner. He knows a lot of girls would kill to have eyelashes like those. He wonders if Kentarou truly doesn't find himself attractive. It doesn't seem logical.

Kentarou sits up on his elbow as well, frowning back at Yahaba. “I’ve never had any struggles with you being the good looking one in this relationship,” he says, waving absently between them. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, okay?”

Yahaba can feel himself growing irritated. “I’m not lying, I’m trying to compliment you.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not a fucking compliment when you know better.”

“How do you know better?”

“My dad—”

“ _Fuck_ your dad!”

Yahaba says it much sharper than he means to, and for a moment Kentarou is stunned into silence. He says nothing as Yahaba sits up fully and takes his boyfriend’s face in his hands, looking down into his eyes intently.

“Kentarou, your dad has issues. He doesn’t know how to be a good father. If he says shit like that to you, you don’t need to listen to him. Just because he’s your dad, that doesn’t mean he’s right all the time. You know that, don’t you?”

Kentarou stares back at him, his frown softening into a look of perplexed hopefulness. Sighing softly, Yahaba leans down to kiss him firmly, waiting until Kentarou has relaxed, one hand moving to hold Yahaba’s shoulder, to move his fingers through Kentarou’s hair and then message the back of his neck gently.

They pull apart, breathing softly, and Yahaba presses his forehead against Kentarou’s. “As I was saying, before I was so _rudely_ interrupted,” he says, fighting back a smile, as he leans back to look into Kentarou’s face, stroking his fingers along the curve of his ear, trailing down the side of his neck.

He pauses, waiting for Kentarou to interrupt him again, but he remains quiet, watching Yahaba’s face. The close scrutiny makes him nervous suddenly, so Yahaba turns his gaze to his fingers, watching as they dip down to run along the edge of Kentarou’s shirt collar.

“Aside from your features themselves, which are quite handsome, by the way, you’re really . . . strong. I mean, I know you work out to get this strong physically but . . . you’re strong in other ways too. You’re determined, and you never back down. You keep going, giving everything you have, even if things don’t look great. Even . . . even when I give you a bad toss, you still use it to the best of your ability. You never shy away from difficulties. You don’t . . . you don’t hesitate or second-guess yourself. That’s strength, I think.”

Kentarou reaches up to take his hand, giving it a squeeze. “You’re strong too,” he mutters. “I’m not good with flowery words like that but . . . you know. I know you’re nervous about being captain, but you make a really good one. You’re encouraging, and not in an annoying way like Oikawa-san.” He rolls his eyes, and Yahaba can’t help but laugh, even though his face burns with embarrassment.

“Can we stop with the mushy stuff now?” Kentarou asks, his own cheeks looking ruddy.

Yahaba grins, leaning forward to kiss the tip of Kentarou’s nose. “Have I ever mentioned how much I like your eyes?”

Kentarou groans, flopping onto his back and covering his face with his arm. “Stop.”

Yahaba giggles, he can’t help it. He pokes Kentarou in the side. “They’re so brown and deep, and sometimes I think I can get lost staring into them.”

“Shut up.”

“And your lips—”

“Shigeru, I swear to God.”

Yahaba laughs, leaning down to duck beneath Kentarou’s arm and kiss his mouth gently. “There’s so much about you that I love,” he admits, before he realizes what he’s saying. He freezes then, biting his lip as he sits back.

Kentarou doesn’t move. He seems frozen as well, arm still hiding his face and expression from Yahaba. For a few seconds nothing happens, and Yahaba forgets to breathe. He remembers when he feels the tightening of his chest, and he lets out the air in a gust, quickly moving to stand.

“I didn’t mean—”

Kentarou sits up abruptly, lowering his arm and scowling. “Don’t,” he says roughly.

Yahaba stills, staring at him. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t take it back if you meant it. Don’t do that to me,” Kentarou growls, standing. He approaches Yahaba, crowding into his personal space. Although he’s a few centimeters shorter, Yahaba can’t help but feel small under the weight of his gaze. “Nobody’s . . . nobody’s ever told me that before.” He breaks eye contact then, frowning down at the floor.

Yahaba feels dizzy. He reaches out to lay his hand on Kentarou’s shoulder gently, to steady himself, before slowly running it up the side of his neck to cradle his head. Stroking his thumb along Kentarou’s cheek, he squeezes gently until Kentarou lifts his gaze once more.

“Nobody’s ever told you that they love you?” Yahaba asks hesitantly, wondering if that’s what he means. “Not even your dad?”

Kentarou just frowns at him, not answering. But of course that’s what he’s saying. Yahaba should know better than to assume otherwise. Swallowing hard, he tells himself to just say it. It’s not that scary. He knows his feelings for Kentarou are real, and it’s not like saying it out loud will change anything. And yet he feels like it’ll change everything.

But he doesn’t want Kentarou to feel like that, to feel like he’s unlovable simply because nobody has told him that he is (and he truly is). Inhaling sharply, Yahaba leans forward, pressing his forehead gently against Kentarou’s.

“I love you,” he says around a sigh, closing his eyes so he won’t have to meet that intense gaze. He feels weak, and his fingers tremble against the warmth of Kentarou’s skin.

Kentarou huffs, tension leaving the stiff line of his shoulders. “Is that the truth?” he asks, voice gruff, thick as though he’s holding back some emotion he’s too embarrassed to show.

Yahaba bites his lip, leaning back to meet Kentarou’s gaze, knowing he has to. Slowly, he runs his fingers through the short hair beneath them, scratching his nails lightly over the back of Kentarou’s scalp. “Yes,” he says softly, his heart pounding a mile a minute.

Kentarou’s gaze lowers, staring at Yahaba’s shoulder instead of his eyes. His cheeks appear flushed, and his hands clench into fists at his sides. “I . . . I do too.”

“You do what?” Yahaba asks, unable to help it. He grins faintly, as Kentarou shoots him a glare.

“Are you really going to make me say it?”

“You made me say it.”

Kentarou grunts, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling a moment, before lowering them to meet Yahaba’s gaze. His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t look away as he parts his lips. Yahaba feels his breath hitching in anticipation.

“I’ve never . . . I don’t really _like_ people. They’re annoying. You’re annoying too, but I guess . . . I mean, I don’t really mind being annoyed by you.” He looks away, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

Yahaba bites back a grin, resisting the urge to prompt him to say the words he’s dancing around. He releases Kentarou’s head, moving to take his hand instead, worming his fingers into the curled fist. Kentarou relaxes his grip, allowing Yahaba to take it and squeezing back firmly.

“So I guess . . . I love you too,” he mutters, scowling at the floor as his ears glow pink.

Yahaba can’t help but grin now, his chest feeling warm. “You guess? You mean, you’re not sure?” he teases, too giddy with happiness to resist.

“Shut up. I take it back.” Kentarou says, snatching his hand away and moving to sit back on the edge of the bed.

Yahaba laughs, moving to join him. “Don’t pout. I’m sorry,” he says, wrapping his arms around Kentarou from the side and resting his chin on his shoulder. “I’m really happy,” he admits then quietly, ducking his head to kiss Kentarou’s shoulder.

Slowly, Kentarou relaxes, turning his head slightly to glance down at him. “Yeah?”

Yahaba grins up at him. “Yeah.”

Straightening, he moves one hand back to Kentarou’s face, pulling him closer in order to kiss him firmly. Kentarou immediately leans into it, his arm coming around Yahaba’s back to pull him closer. Tilting his head to get a better angle, Yahaba deepens the kiss with a murmur, his heart fluttering in his chest at the feel of Kentarou’s thumb gently rubbing against his side.

Pulling away, Yahaba sets his forehead against Kentarou’s once more. “Are you happy too?”

Kentarou’s lips twitch, and slowly they tilt upwards in a smile. An actual smile.

“Yeah. I’m happy.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a commission for An-kun, and I'm so happy I got to write it! It was a lot of fun, and I love writing sappy, lovestruck boys so I hope you all like this as much as I do. XD
> 
> http://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


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